[i]
Waking up at 11 a.m.
Grapefruit. Strawberry Honey Bunches of Oats with Almond Milk.
All day shift at China Wok.
Mixed Nuts with Raisins and Dried Cranberries. Everything Pretzels. Honey Black Tea.
Receiving unusually large tips today. However it's not very busy at all. I thought the Super Bowl would bring business but it's kind of the opposite.
Icelandic Milk Chocolate.
Around 8:45 p.m. the restaurant hits a dead spot. The phone doesn't ring for the next hour. Ling and Ming aren't preoccupied prepping anything in the back. They're just on their phones playing games. I resort to an uncomfortable powernap then jump around outside with the basketball working on my ball handling skills.
Banana.
Home at last. Enjoying Broccoli, Onions, Eggs, and Rice with Soup.
Watching The Hunt (2012).
Grapes.
Philip Seymour Hoffman died today at 46.
Even though the streets are still recovering from the snow slush the night air is pleasant enough for a bike ride. I take a short trip up and down Laskin. Stopping by the bagel dumpster and retrieving three half dozens.
...
When I arrive back home I find Richie sitting at the dining room table hiding behind the bouquet of white flowers. He's wearing mysterious shades and tips his glasses to peer at me with a glaring look. Soothing road trip-style tunes by Tame Impala and Andrew Bird playing on the stereo. While I put away the dishes he sips on a can of Budweiser and writes.
Sleep at 3:30 a.m.
[i] Philip Seymour Hoffman.
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